Regency Christmas (Holiday Collection) Read online

  Regency Christmas

  A special holiday collection of Jillian Eaton’s

  most beloved Christmas Novellas

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All books within © 2012 – 2018 by Jillian Eaton

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  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

  Praise for Jillian Eaton’s Christmas Novellas

  “A cute romance with a feel good winter feeling.” – Sally, Amazon (The Winter Wish)

  “I loved the writing.” – Bookshelves & Everything Else (The Winter Duchess)

  “Jerks at the heart strings and pushes all the right buttons.” – M. Watkins, Goodreads (The Christmas Widow)

  “Beautiful writing. Shows there is such a thing as true love!” – P. Konen, Amazon (The Risque Resolution)

  “A wonderful romance.” – Emma, Goodreads (The Winter Duchess)

  “A lovely Christmas historical romance.” – S. Reader, Amazon (The Risque Resolution)

  “Absolutely beautiful short story!” – Whit, Goodreads (The Christmas Widow)

  The Winter Wish (2012)

  Lady Sarah Dawson has one simple wish for Christmas: to gain the attention of Devlin Heathcliff, the handsome viscount who she has loved for as long as she can remember. Unfortunately for Sarah she is plain, quiet, and embarrassingly shy – the exact opposite of the type of woman Devlin is attracted to. All hope seems lost… Until one afternoon fate steps in and Sarah learns that sometimes, with a little magic, winter wishes can come true.

  The Risqué Resolution (2013)

  Lily has until Christmas to find a husband. After six failed seasons, she fears all hope is lost…until she meets the mysterious, insufferable, and oh so handsome Captain James Rigby. But the last thing on the embittered soldier’s mind is marriage, especially to a woman who is as infuriatingly stubborn as she is beautiful. With time running out, can Lily convince James – and herself – true love really exists?

  The Christmas Widow (2015)

  Known as “Mad Lady Bea” by the townspeople of Blooming Glen, Lady Beatrice Tumbley has not left her estate since the tragic death of her husband on Christmas Eve. Terrified of the outside world she lives in complete seclusion, determined never to fall in love again. Until one cold, snowy night a handsome stranger comes knocking at her door…

  A Rake in Winter (2016)

  No one is more shocked than Lady Emma herself when she drinks a bit too much wine…and wakes up in bed beside Lord William Prescott, England’s most notorious rake! Emma wants to forget the entire night ever happened, but Will isn’t about to let her go that easily. When they’re trapped together during a winter storm Emma is finally forced to confront her conflicted feelings for the handsome rogue…but will this Christmas affair end in love, or disaster?

  The Winter Duchess (2017)

  Eric married Caroline for one simple reason: he wasn’t in love with her. Which is why he intends to leave her at his country estate and return to London as soon as possible. At least, that was the plan until a winter storm leaves them both stranded. Now every time he turns around he finds himself stumbling over the wife he never wanted…but is slowly starting to desire. As cold winds howl outside the manor, inside of it a duke’s heart is finally starting to melt as he finds himself falling for the one woman he was never supposed to love…but can she love him in return?

  Natalie’s Christmas Rogue (2018)

  Finally, the story readers have been waiting for! Lord Benjamin Hawthorne has never met a woman he couldn’t charm…until Natalie Rigby. The sad-eyed beauty wants nothing to do with him, or any man for that matter. But at the Christmas Eve Ball, anything is possible. Even falling in love…

  Table of Contents

  The Winter Wish

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Risque Resolution

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Christmas Widow

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  EPILOGUE

  A Rake in Winter

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  EPILOGUE

  The Winter Duchess

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Natalie’s Christmas Rogue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  About the Author

  Book List

  The Spring Duchess

  Chapter One

  The Winter

  Wish

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Sarah, you are doing it again.”

  Glancing sideways at her best friend, Sarah made a face and sighed. “I know,” she admitted, twisting her hands anxiously on her lap. “But I simply cannot help it. He is so very handsome, Lily. Do you not think he is handsome?” With another little sigh, this one dreamier than the last, Sarah returned to staring unabashedly at Lord Devlin Heathcliff as he waltzed across the ballroom floor.

  Strikingly tall with a well-muscled physique to match, the Viscount of Winswood had been blessed with glossy brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and two matching dimples. His jawline was strong, his nose straight. From the top of his head to the tips of his boots he was sheer perfection in every way, shape, and form. It was a fact he knew very well and used to his full advantage at every opportunity, especially where women were concerned.

  As Sarah watched, her face all but green with envy, the slender brunette in his arms threw back her head and tittered. The Viscount drew her close to whisper something in her ear and she laughed again, this time loudly enough to cause a few heads to swivel. Fearing she could be caught gaping Sarah turned in the uncomfortable wooden chair she had been sitting on since the ball began some hours before and exchanged a rueful smile with Lily.

&nb
sp; “I think Lady Roland has big ears and an absolutely vile temper,” her friend said loyally, referring to the brunette upon whose neck Devlin’s lips were currently resting. “Not to worry, Sarah. She will be nothing more than yet another passing fancy. You know how he is with them, like a child with a shiny new toy. At the last ball it was Lady Awning, remember? And before that Lady Newmore caught his eye for all of five minutes.” Leaning forward, Lily took Sarah’s hand and squeezed it tight. “You will have your chance, not to worry. Although—” her dark eyebrows lifted knowingly “—your chance would come a lot more quickly if you ever actually got up the nerve to speak to him.”

  Every fiber of Sarah’s body rebelled at the idea of talking to the man who she had been in love with since her sixteenth birthday when she first saw him from across a crowded room. That had been seven years ago when she was a young debutante with stars in her eyes and hope in her heart. Now those stars were long since extinguished, and the hope… Her shoulders slumped. The hope was all but gone as well.

  “You know I could never do that,” she said in a whisper, lest the other unfortunate wallflowers who hovered around them overhear. Fretting with a long blond curl that had come undone from her coiffure, she peeked sideways at Devlin one more time before looking away with a little gasp. Had he been staring at her? Surely not. The very idea was inconceivable. Impossible, even. And yet…

  Holding her breath, she dared one more glance. For an instant her heart slammed against her ribcage as she saw he truly was facing her, but his gaze… Oh, drats. His gaze was focused on Lily.

  “He is looking at you,” she said glumly.

  “Who is?”

  “Lord Heathcliff.”

  Her friend snorted in unladylike disbelief. “He is not. He is merely – oh, well I never. Sarah,” she hissed, her violet eyes widening with ill-disguised excitement, “he is walking over here, right now! What do you want me to do?”

  It was of no surprise to any of the wallflowers, least of all Sarah, that amidst all of the women who spent every ball sequestered away in a corner of the room it was Lily who would manage to attract attention of the masculine variety. After all, she was not truly a wallflower. No, she was much too pretty to be one of them with her long flowing black hair, heart shaped face, and eyes the color of amethysts. She sat with them out of loyalty, and because she and Sarah had been the best of friends since childhood.

  “Dance with him,” Sarah said, giving Lily a little push. “Quickly, before he changes his mind and goes somewhere else.”

  In a flurry of yellow skirts Lily rose to her feet, but she paused to look back at Sarah, a troubled frown pulling her tipping the corners of her mouth down. “Are you certain? I would never want to—”

  “Go,” Sarah said firmly. “If I cannot dance with him, the next best thing is having you do it for me.”

  Lily’s entire face lit up. “I will return as soon as it is over to tell you all about it,” she vowed.

  “I want to hear every single detail, so do not forget anything. Now go!” As Sarah watched Lily flounce away, she could not help but smile, and her happiness was truly genuine. She wished only good things for her friend, and what could be better than spending even a moment in Devlin’s arms?

  He approached Lily with a panther like grace, his long legged gait more a prowl than a saunter, and Sarah nearly tipped out of her chair as she strained forward in vain to hear what words were being exchanged as he murmured something to Lily and she smiled in reply.

  Then they were dancing, and when Devlin curved his arm around the slim hollow of Lily’s back Sarah felt as though he were holding her. And when Lily laughed at something amusing he whispered in her ear Sarah felt as though she were laughing too. It was as wonderful as it was gut wrenchingly horrible, for in that moment Sarah was forced to acknowledge that this was the closest she would ever come to being wrapped in the arms of the man she so desperately – and foolishly – loved.

  When the waltz ended Devlin bowed and Lily curtsied. They parted ways, and Sarah waited in white knuckled anticipation to hear everything. Unable to sit still, she met Lily halfway across the ballroom floor, sucking in her belly to squeeze between dancers and ducking low under silver trays heavy with refreshments.

  “Not here,” she said when she finally reached Lily and her friend’s mouth opened. “Come with me.” Hand in hand the two women darted out a side door and, laughing like children, ran down the long, candlelit hallway until they reached an empty room.

  Like the rest of the Harcourt Estate upon which the ball was being held, the study they had stumbled upon was immaculately decorated with gilded framed paintings, matching love seats in deep burgundy, and an impressive mahogany desk that boasted neatly piled stacks of parchment and a half dozen leather bound books.

  Flames smoldered in the floor to ceiling fireplace and Sarah jolted the embers awake with a poker while Lily launched into a lively retelling of every second that had transpired between her and the Viscount.

  “…and then,” she said, rather breathless from the excitement of it all, “he touched my hand. Well, all of my fingers, except for the thumb. And he said…”

  “Yes?” Sarah gave the fire an extra hard poke. “What did he say?”

  “He said ‘You are a lovely dancer’. Can you believe it?”

  “You are a lovely dancer,” Sarah pointed out reasonably.

  “But to hear it from him, it truly meant—oh dear, I am sorry.” Her lower lip jutting out, Lily crossed the room in three quick strides and looped her arm around Sarah’s shoulders, which were undeniably slumped. “It should have been you,” she murmured softly. “It should have been you, and here I have been blathering on about it like a shrew. Forgive me, dearest.”

  Sarah shrugged. “I wanted to know.”

  Turning to face the fire, both women held out their hands to warm them as they fell into reflective silence. Outside the windows the wind howled, a reminder that beyond the toasty confines of the study winter was unleashing her wrath. It was the second week of December, and the Season had just begun.

  For Sarah it would be her seventh, for Lily her fifth. A decade of failed Seasons between them, and this one was not looking any more promising than the last. It did not help that Sarah possessed all the temerity of a field mouse and Lily, while much more confident around men, refused to accept the attentions of anyone unless Sarah was being courted as well. Since that had yet to happen, they were both very much ‘on the shelf’ which was not a place any woman under the age of thirty desired to be.

  “I wish…” Sarah began, but she stopped herself short, unable to give voice to the secret desire that burned within her.

  “You wish what?” Lily prompted.

  Sarah nibbled on her bottom lip before she said, “I wish Devlin would simply notice me. I wish he would look up and see me, as he sees those other women. As he saw you. As I see him.” Sighing, she shook her head. “I know it is folly, but there it is.”

  Drawing back her shoulders so she stood at her full height of five feet, three inches Lily pinned her hands to her hips and drew her eyebrows together over the bridge of her nose. “I think that is a fine wish, Sarah Emily Dawson, and you should not think otherwise, do you hear me?”

  “Perhaps,” Sarah allowed softly. “But it will never come true.”

  “You never know,” Lily said, smiling mysteriously. “’Tis the season for miracles… And I think we are both due for a little magic.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  The next afternoon Lily called on Sarah for tea, and after sating their hunger with crumpets drizzled in honey the two women dressed in their warmest cloaks, complete with fur lined hoods and cozy matching muffs, to brave the winter chill.

  It had snowed overnight and everything, from the dormers on the rooftops to the lamp posts that guarded every street corner, was blanketed in a soft, pristine white. Carriages pulled by prancing horses flew past, while children armed with snowballs waged war and a group of carolers made their w
ay from house to house, singing merrily of silver bells and Old Saint Nicholas. Lily’s spinster aunt attended them as chaperone, but the poor dear was so deaf it was rather like having no one watch them at all. She stayed behind them, her nose more often than not buried in a book, and every once in a while Lily would have to turn and trot back to guide her aunt back onto the correct path.

  “I love this time of year,” Lily sighed as she neatly sidestepped a pile of discarded soot. “It is so filled with hope and promise. Why, it feels as though anything is possible!”

  Sarah, who tended to be much more practical minded than her friend, tried not to scowl. Her toes were freezing and she was fairly certain her nose was about to fall right off her face despite the three separate scarves she had wrapped around her neck.

  For her, Christmastime invoked a very different response than it did for Lily. While everyone else was coming together, she had never felt more alone. Seeing men and women arm in arm, their faces flushed from the cold and their eyes sparkling with love, she was reminded of what she did not have: namely, Devlin Heathcliff. And even though it was silly and ridiculous and she knew nothing would ever come of it, she could not help but wonder what he was doing this very minute.

  No doubt he was wrapped in the arms of his lover. They would be in front of a fireplace, Sarah decided. Quite naked, of course, with only each other’s bodies and a shared glass of wine to warm them. It was a decadent scene for someone with her limited experience to imagine, but imagine it she did: once, twice, three times a day at the very least.

  What would it feel like to have Devlin’s lips press against her throat? To have his hands sweep down her body, lingering on the curve of her collarbone before slowly going lower to cup her breasts and then lower still, to—